Divided
by Wicked R
Summary: Jack's still hearing voices, aftereffects of the locker. Starts where we left Jack at the end of AWE.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Divided  
Disclaimers: I don't own any pirate/ship and I don't wish to.  
Genre: angst/friendship/romance

Rating: have to go for NC17 because of some adult concepts, no details though.  
Summary/Set: Jack's still hearing voices, aftereffects of the locker. Starts where we left Jack at the end of AWE.

Pairing: Jack/hat, eventual Jack/Barbossa friendship, Sparrabeth a lot later.

Jack woke up to someone kicking him in the side. He jumped, making the little boat shake and himself almost topple out the dinghy. He looked around drunkenly. Empty bottles of rum at the bottom on the dory, his flag flying high, but the canvas hardly moving in the absence of much wind, the sun high up in the sky blinding him, the rest, water everywhere all around. Not a soul anywhere, the monotony of the waves crushing onto the side of the boat was only broken by the shuffling sounds made by a gannet, that has chosen his flagpole to relieve itself at. He spat at the sight, or was it his hangover making him do so?

"Hoay! Trim the boat!"

Jack looked up drunkenly into the blaring sunshine, shielding his eyes to see better. At the other end of the modest vessel there was another Jack standing at the rim of the boat, yet he didn't seem to be unbalancing the vessel, it was as if he didn't have any weight at all. He was wearing his captain's attire, complete with a hat on the wrong way round on his head. Of course. Now that he was alone, the other Jacks were likely to come back to haunt him, they did appear every time he was by himself for a longer time. He hoped they weren't going to come anymore, it has been a long time since the last time he was alone since he shared his cabin with Barbossa on the journey to Tortuga, the rest of his time he spent on the deck, with Gibbs or with the wenches.

"Smartly now! Even keel!" The Jack towering above him ordered.

Drunken Jack blinked. He had to admit commandeering Jack was right. If he kept hovering at the side of the boat on one leg as he was doing, he'd either plunge into the water and end up shark bait, or he'll top the boat over and he'll end up shark bait anyway. As repulsive as it seemed for him to approach his alterego, he inched towards the mast.

"Bravo!" He hailed his seemingly not drunk counterpart. Maybe it was just as well it was the wrongly hatted Jack who was the one acting as if he was the captain. "Ye successfully saved us from feeding the fish." But somebody else captaining the ship was not right, was it? A duplicate, against the real deal! Better get his counterpart drunk too, maybe he'd have a better chance? He started rummaging through the empty bottles and found one with the quarter of the contents still in, "ye want some slackening braces, manning yards, dousing sails, go fe it mate, but why without rum, Jackie?"

His replica jumped down next to him, his face a mere inch from his, "what say ye be it proper to talk to yer superior like that! It's Captain Sparrow to ye, filthy..." He crunched his nose and made a shooing away gesture, "...salientian!" However, his other hand moved to take the bottle of rum out of Jack's hands.

Jack rolled his eyes, a little dazed, then lost equilibrium again. That was his line! "Hey!" He opposed as the imaginary Captain Sparrow grabbed him by the arm and hauled him to his feet.

"Eyes in the boat! Bale!" The one who seemed to be in command shouted and Jack had to admit that he was right again. Perhaps it wasn't an emergency, cause the pool of water at the bottom of the boat had been sloshing about for a while enough to warm up and there was no leak apparent, but it was best getting rid of the excess water that perhaps the waves caused at some point while he was asleep. Still swaying drunkenly he emptied his bucket quite a few times before he saw fit to change the course of action.

With a gallant smile he straightened up, "belay that bailing! That's well." A little more sober now, he proclaimed with bravado against what was still the aftereffects of Davy Jones' doing. If he could just kill all his alteregos, they wouldn't come back. The replica of himself with two left hands that he stabbed in the locker didn't come again to trouble him since. "I'm the captain of this ship and I commandeer it by myself!" He grinned, glad to have it at length off his chest. "And it be the captain that gives orders," he slurred.

"Where be yer hat than, ei?" The imaginary Jack challenged.

The real Jack looked around. His hat was nowhere to be seen. He'd used it as a pillow against the side of the dory when laying down to sleep, which means it must've dropped into the water at some point. "Ready about!" He wanted to uncleat the jib to begin turning. Surely he couldn't complete for captaincy without his hat, so he released the windward jib sheet.

"That hat," the imaginary Jack stroked his own, totally oblivious to his distress. "I wonder what people'd think if they knew why that hat be so important to ye. I wonder if I should tell Lizzie what ye use it fe on yer lonely nights in between ports."

Jack jumped, seething with anger, "just ye never mind tellin a damn thing. She don't need to..." He brought an arm up to break the impact, but it was too late. He hissed and was knocked backwards, realizing he has forgotten to duck under the boom as the boat turned into the wind. "Uuhhhhh..." He tried to sit up woozily, but all his head was able to do was to sway around. "Shhsheet the jibh!" He tried to suggest to the other Jack, but that just sat down, sipping his rum without a care in the world. Now they were floating about even more aimless than before.

"Proper. The tiller be neither proper, nor suitable, sir. It is not acceptable nor adequate. It is an obvious fact and abomination." Criticized him another Jack with his torso bare, the one he thought he finished off in the locker. Proving he still very much existed in the folds of his mind as well, he sheeted in the jib and centered the tiller in the worst way possible, on true form.

Jack didn't know why the boat didn't sink with a dozen Jacks on it, but he blamed the illusion on his injured head and rolled to the side. He'll have to wait awhile, unmoving, before he could take control of the boat.

Tbc


	2. Cakehole

Chapter 2: Cakehole

"Captain! Permission to fetch Jack's hat!" Gibbs winced and leaned closer to Barbossa, not sure whether the tall pirate will allow him to get the item.

Barbossa grunted, then waved displeased. "Steer about!" He gave the order for them to approach the object floating on the top of the water nevertheless. If he wanted that map to the Fountain Of Youth back from Jack, he had to be holding all the cards, including Jack's hat. So far his quest for immortality didn't start very well. First, he's lost the map, then he went back to Tortuga for the one who stole it, but only found Gibbs there, and no matter how much he threatened the drunken sailor, Gibbs simply didn't seem to know much more than what general direction Jack took off in. The hat was a good sign actually, Jack couldn't be that far. While stationary to fish the hat out, he told Ragetti to bring him that ridiculously long spyglass Jack'd fabricated that miraculously also worked very well as it was supposed to, magnifying things if one kept it the right way. That was how he spotted the small dinghy with the unmistakable sparrow flying on top and once they were on the move again he sighted the just as unmistakable form of his adversary lying at the bottom of the cramped vessel. Jack had his sword drawn and was arching it in the air, occasionally taking a swipe in all directions, as if he was fighting an invisible enemy.

"Blimey!" Barbossa rubbed the strange vision out his eyes, "that looks like something more than just being loaded to the gunwalls," he walked around thoughtfully. It was rather unlikely Jack'd seen them and was acting strange for their sake. He watched with raised eyebrows and some amusement as Gibbs climbed into the little dinghy and repeatedly tried to duck out the way of Jack's weapon.

Gibbs opened his eyes wide, confounded and at odds at how to react to this turn of events. All right, Jack was known for doing things that didn't make sense to anyone else, known for talking as if he had a different audience than the people present, he'd been hallucinating in the locker, but what was occurring in front of Gibbs' eyes was a notch further towards surreal. If you trusted Jack the way he did, you could trust there was some method in the madness too, he'd never been worried about his captain's sanity the same way others did. However, although Jack had his eyes open and Gibbs thought himself in his field of vision, his captain didn't seem to notice him, but continued with elegant swipes to the left and right, and all that lying down.

Gibbs slid carefully round him and took position at the bottom of his legs where the sword didn't seem to be going, but drew his own sword just in case. In his trepidation he only dared to talk quietly, not to cause Jack any sudden movements. "Jack...can ye hear me, yer first mate Joshamee Gibbs?"

There was a sinister silence where Jack paused his sword in mid air, then Gibbs brought his sword up in defense as Jack sat up and swung his in his direction. "Damn it captain! We're not in Davy Jones' locker anymore!"

"Aye, I remember that," Jack answered in a cracked and quite lifeless voice, lowering his weapon and ignoring the stare he was given. With him having noticed he wasn't alone, all the other Jacks disappeared and there was nobody to fight. Now he would've normally just ignored the whole experience, bouncing back as if nothing had happened, but with the prospect of those turning up again any time he went as much as to the head by himself, nothing seemed it's normal rosy self. It was all right to be like that in the locker, it was natural, but not here.

Gibbs sat down beside him, awaiting developments. It was obvious Jack needed some time, maybe he'd even tell his closest friend something, let it be whatever bunkum was on his mind, and the flow of that'd help Gibbs figure out what had happened over the few days between him sailing off merrily from Tortuga and Barbossa's successful attempt to find him. As encouragement, Gibbs put a hand on Jack's shoulder, and rubbed his palm over it forcefully to bring him out of whatever madness he was engulfed by. "Now, heedful Jack, you've seen who's behind us."

Jack raised his eyebrows and straightened his neck. Was Gibbs meaning the something black he could just about acknowledge from the corner of his eyes? That'd be the stark outlines of the Pearl, it did register in his mind that as he was expecting, the Pearl returned to him without him having to do anything about it, but barely being able to hold his head up, his exhaustion'd hardly let him celebrate or show cockiness in front of his long time foe, his once first mate, Hector Barbossa. From now on, he'd have to stay in the company of someone at all times, but even then, was he not with other people on the deck when little Jacks started to talk to him when studying the map about how to get out the locker? It was his only chance though, desperately cling on to a companion and reality with them. These other forms of Jacks drained him too much, just a few days with those energetic, not sleeping alteregos. He closed his eyes for a moment to gather himself, then put a hand on Gibbs' knee and glanced into his friend's warm and concerned face, "help me up, Mr. Gibbs," he whispered, the remains of a world that wasn't this one, clearly shimmering in his eyes.

The older man nodded his head, letting him know he would, but didn't move yet, "but why? For the love of Mother and Child, Jack, what vexes ye?"

"Nothing. They don't exist!" Jack answered quickly.

Gibbs sighed, "I was afraid so..." He wanted to support Jack by the elbow, but seeing that an action like that brought no fruits for making him move, he put one of Jack's arms over his shoulder and hauled him to his feet. Although they nearly fell back down a couple of times, then lurched right as Jack's legs were trying to give way under him, having a lot of practice at drunken walking, Gibbs managed to steer their stagger in the direction of the Pearl's longboat he came with.

"Jack! Your hair! Your head!" Once he started rowing he finally noticed from the back the dried up blood that dirtied Jack's curls. Alarming, but maybe an explanation for his behavior.

"Just a bump, I didn't crack it," Jack mumbled and raised a hand to check the injury again himself. He wanted to give Gibbs a reassuring smile, but as that would've had him turn and made him woozy and his headache worse, he thought better of it. But will he be able to stay awake even with his magnificent, fierce and hugish Pearl in sight?

Barbossa scrutinized the scene close by, not taking his eyes off his once captain tripping over his own feet and Gibbs dragging him along. Nearly collapsing into the longboat, Jack looked only half alive and worn out to the point of debilitation. Exactly like he expected to find him in the locker. Only Jack wasn't like this there, but he looked haunted now. A fact worthy of careful consideration.

Tbc


	3. Misrepresentation

Chapter 3: Misrepresentation

Barbossa was only a little surprised however that it was a smiling Jack that greeted him and that he got himself together for the encounter. Shaken or bouncing, Jack was the master of deceit.

"So ye do miss me after all?" Jack danced towards Barbossa, then held onto a line when he thought he was close enough. It was usually best having a few steps of leave way from the older trickster. "First ye come to the locker fe me, then try to save me from becoming Beckett's prisoner and now this?" He teased.

"Aye, Sparrow..." He grinned back the same way, "it'd be true ye always have something I want and need to get to and it'd also be true I noticed ye look greener than usual. What be it yer running away from now Jack? Addledland? Hahahahaa. Me crew wants to live forever, some had even had a taste of it ye see, with the curse and they'd feel a whole lot better regarding their fortunes if ye presented us with what ye took."

"What?" Jack answered in a ridiculizing manner, word said short and on a high pitched tone, "I have not taken anything from ye, on the other hand, ye have taken..."

"Ye have so taken!"

"Have not!"

Barbossa rolled his eyes and shook his head. They could've went round in circles like that forever. So he ordered Mullroy and Murtogg to search Jack, as Pintel and Ragetti had not been entirely settled about leaving Captain Jack behind earlier and therefore he didn't trust them. However, as he expected, Jack didn't put up any fight getting searched, clear indication that the map wasn't on him. Barbossa didn't even wait till Murtogg finished fishing in the boots. "All right, mateys," he turned on his heels summarizingly, "he couldn't have hidden it far. All we have to do is lock him in the brig and wait till he complies. There's a choice for him to be made between living forever and not at all!"

"Nobody on this ship will harm ye, captain!" Pintel told Jack on a hushed voice when he got herded down below past him.

"It's not you I'm worried about," Jack muttered. If Hector didn't do any speck of honest pirating since they parted, which was unlikely, since he was busy chasing him, then there'd be no prisoners taken in battles and therefore noone else in the brig. So all he wished for in this moment in time is that he could fall asleep for a little while at least before his replicas appeared.

tbc


	4. Inverted

Chapter 4: Inverted

Jack moved to try out the corner of the brig as his bed as soon as the key turned in the lock. But somebody was there already, leisurely smelling at the little piece of fabric, a shred of old lace, tied around his left wrist and had his boots up supporting the bulkheads, or vice versa, as relaxed as if he'd been in a chair with his legs up the table.

"Back to this place, ei?" The slice of Jack's personality that represented his overconfidence started and Jack had to admit it wasn't one of his most lovable traits. "Yer where ye want to be! The Pearl!"

"I feel dreadful," Jack moaned, trying a different approach this time and sat down in the other corner, on something squishy. It'll be another Jack for sure, but he didn't care. If that Jack wanted to be slept on, he'll sleep on him if he has to. He'd need no hat to cover his eyes this time either.

"We're devils and black sheep, really bad eggs," the one under him started singing at the top of his voice, if you could call it singing, and somehow having positioned himself in a way that his mouth was right next to one of real Jack's ears.

Well, at least they didn't out and out attack him, like last time. A little noise won't stop his rest, as a child he'd learned to sleep by the sound of canonfire on his father's ship. Although, was that a cockerel in the background, trying to crow at the rhythm of the song?

"Nothing you'll get back Jackie, nothing ye lost," another Jack said on a monotone and desolate tone, kneeling next to him, "no help from Tia Dalma, not yer ship, not yer hat or saneness, not yer chance fe immortality, not yer dignity or Lizzie. Not even yer whores or pies fe ye! Any particular reason ye think they are all gone?"

"Why be it!? Will ye please shut it! Questions fe another day, savvy?" Jack waved him off, his speech getting slurred.

"So it's utter insignificance that ye ended up jest like yer father was told by the witch ye would, after yer seizures as a baby?" Said a similar voice from next to the wall. He couldn't see the face in the shadows, just some of the red ribbons tied in with the dreadlocks peeking out.

"Teague saw me commandeer the flagship that won the battle against the armada. Gotta count fe something," Jack couldn't help himself not to argue when it was about how he was viewed in the eyes of his father. He mostly pretended not to care, but when you had a conversation with yourself, that didn't count.

"I thought ye weren't one fe tradition," the muffled voice argued further, "so why does it matter what yer father thinks?"

"You don't happen to have the key, do you, by any chance?" A proper speaking and clean Jack tried to fit his finger into the lock, "you're not even going to try the out the hinges theory?"

"Hold on," Jack answered, "I'm too sleepy to apply any leverage now." He marveled a little while at the hands of his conversation partner who had dirt under his fingernails, then leaned back, "later, mate."

"Let's call for a vote!" The Jack in the corner raised a finger, "raise or not raise."

"Undone. It doesn't work on the Pearl," mumbled the person under him, "I've seen those grates getting fixed back in after the battle with the Interceptor."

"Look!" Jack pointed up and till the others looked in that direction, he closed his eyes. He wouldn't need much time to fall asleep, he was so exhausted that a mere few seconds would do.

When the other Jacks looked back at him he was lying peacefully, without moving, bar his chest going rhythmically up and down.

"Disappointed?" Asked clean Jack the other ones.

"Not so much," they all closed up on him, then they all shouted, "fire," getting themselves sucked into his head.

Tbc


	5. Orbit

Chapter 5: Orbit

After only a few minutes of uninterrupted rest, Jack's eyes started to move under his eyelids. In the dream he found himself on a sandy beach, one he'd recognize any time, from any angle, even with the burned down palm trees in the background. This time though, the island was not uninhabited at all.

For one, a Jack dressed in navy uniform was sitting on the top of one of the less damaged palm trees and just shot the bottle of rum Jack was holding out his hands.

After a few more shots that whipped the sand into his eyes from next to his feet, Jack decided it was maybe best running out of the reach of that gun. "Merde!" He couldn't care much about having stepped into some splinters with his bare soles though as he took to the left, there were many Jacks yielding swords and manning guns that way. To the right then. He resumed running, trying to favor his injured foot without having to compromise on speed.

"Running away from a fight?" A rather drunken Jack stood right in front of him, swaying so much from the one side to the other that he couldn't corner him.

The toing and froing and trying to go round him unbalanced Jack as well, and that added with the blow to his chest as he walked into his double, landed him on his bottom. He peered sideways nevertheless to see if he was followed, and since he was, he rolled out the way of his bibulous duplicate this time, shook his head to regain his balance and quickly stood up.

"No, no, no," he muttered a few times before turning and resuming to run. All those Jacks that chased him, crazed and some with war colors painted onto their faces, they looked like the cannibals chasing him.

Without looking back anymore, in the dream, he ran as fast as he could, his dreadlocks flying from side to side behind him. It vaguely registered with him that he had a similar reoccurring dream before, since he was a child, where he ran and ran and ran, strangely on land. But this time it was different, those who chased him had a face. His feet squishing the sand, jumping over stranded jellyfish, splashing through the lapping waves. His leg muscles were tiring, he could feel them warm and shaky as they were pumping furiously, his heart was racing so loudly that he couldn't perceive anything else, the pace gave him no time to think about what the best course of action was either. But he knew the others were behind him, he sensed them even though sometimes they were quiet and not shouting or shooting.

He circled the island a couple of times till he realized he had no strength left and could breathe no more. Tripping made him stop, he doubled over, opening his mouth like a fish out the water. He looked what was behind him and through the sweat, as if from under water, he saw the black and white cloud of all the Jacks approaching.

"Cuttlefish!" He grunted, telling himself it was all nonsense. He could face the others since they didn't even exist. As he told Gibbs himself. "You're Captain Jack Sparrow, savvy? The one and only!" He crawled to a big rock in the shallow water nearby and used it as support to try to stand up. He laid his head on it for a moment, then pushed himself up, still breathing heavily with the pain and effort. "Those who mutiny my identity are not my masters any longer!" Now that he'd calmed down a little, he could still feel the splinter in his foot, made a lot worse by the running. He shifted his position to put his weight on his other foot, but not having felt so drained before, like ever, he ended up sitting on the rock instead. He looked up to see if his pursuers saw his weakness, but found that when he had at least to some extent convinced himself that the alteregos were not real, they were approaching a lot less quicker, in fact they were looking like they were stepping in slow motion. Unlike the locker, he noted, where he had absolutely no control over what was happening. He examined the sole of his left, sore foot, wasn't he remembering stepping into the glass with his right one? No matter, the splint was in the the left one now. It was strange, but he had to try to prod it out anyway. Lulled into a sense of security by the apparent slow movement of the attackers, he was too engulfed in the digging into his sole that he didn't notice a Jack holding what was the remains of the bottle, coming up from behind, his head popping up from the waves.

The blow to the back of his head sent him down on his hands and knees onto the ground. He found himself surrounded and somebody cruelly wrenched and twisted the ankle of his cut foot. He gritted his teeth, but it was no use against the fists connecting with his nose. He fainted and fell face down into the sand, with the tide coming in.

Tbc


	6. Revised

Chapter 6: Reviser

"Good morning, captain!" Pintel greeted Barbossa as his superior stepped out on deck.

"Still stationary, are we?" Barbossa grunted, referring to the fact that Jack had absolutely no intentions of telling them where he hid the map. He touched his pocket where he stashed Jack's compass he ordered to be taken from him and briefly contemplated looking at it again, but quickly discarded the idea. He couldn't understand why Jack valued the instrument at all, to him it had never been of any interest. Cause what did he want most in the world? It was always the same, it has never changed since he'd become the Pirate Lord of the Caspian. What he wanted most was not being the Pirate Lord of the Caspian, cause if he wasn't becoming that, that would've meant Illyria was still alive, she wouldn't have had to pass her piece of eight down to the young man who adored her and followed her everywhere. But that was a long time ago, why was it that it still affected him that much he could not use the compass?

"Aye, we're still stationary Sir, but Master Gibbs'd like to ask ye not to be. He'd like to sail back to Tortuga."

"Does he now?" Barbossa turned quickly, "just what reason fe does he think he has any say on this ship?"

"He says we need to get help Sir. He's not slept one wink with Captain Jack that ill..."

Barbossa narrowed his eyes. Surely he'd noticed something was up with Jack, but he must've been making the rest up to deceive them, make them go back to some port so he could take off to the Fountain again. He had to go tell that blaggard that game will not work with him. He walked into the brig to find that his strict orders have been ignored, as Gibbs somehow managed to get to the other side of the closed grating and was now sitting on the ground with Jack's head in his lap, whispering to him.

Driven by the anger of a man who was used to being obeyed, he grabbed Pidgeley, the guard on duty. "Not me Sir, the one before me opened the door," Pidegeley stammered, "I'm not the one you told last night to come down here just in case..."

"Let me in!" Barbossa tossed the man at the grating and stood at a mere inch from the door till the guard fumbled with the keylock. He barged in when he finally could and was going to handle Jack by himself at last, but when he as much as touched his fellow captain's shoulder, the prisoner screamed, trashing about with his eyes shut.

Barbossa squeezed Jack's shoulders nevertheless with some force, wanting to haul him to his feet, but that just made Jack scream even louder.

"What are ye doin!?" Gibbs panicked as well and scooped Jack up once more when a bewildered, but still skeptical Barbossa let go.

"It's all right Jack," his loyal friend continued to soothe the disturbed pirate by holding onto him tight, "I got ye." He waited till Jack's breathing calmed down a little before turning to Barbossa, "I found him like this last night and I'm not seem to be able to wake him up completely, although he responds to what I do sometimes. He's running a mighty fever too, Captain, we need to take him somewhere he can be taken care of."

Barbossa rolled his eyes, but took a better stock of the prisoner before him. That's exactly what he needed, disease on board. Knowing the crew, they'll start deserting soon. Besides, you can't sail into any port flying a yellow flag. Jack'd been looking unwell when he was brought on board, the grayish cast of his skin had accentuated since. Several facial expressions passed through his face in just a few moments, none seemed pleasant. If Jack was dreaming, it had to be a nightmare, one he'd be grateful being woken from. A lot lighter this time, he reached out the touch a shivering Jack's arm. "Lad, can ye hear me? Jack." He called gently.

The prisoner gave him a faint twitch of the corner of his mouth, but that was it. As far as he was concerned, he believed he was still lying face down in the sand in the blinding sunshine, mind fuzzy and his body too bruised to be able to do raise his head.

Mild concern creased Barbossa's forehead. The way Gibbs was cradling Jack against his chest, he appeared almost frail in his arms. Even if Jack was one of his biggest adversaries, at this moment in time Barbossa simply saw a likeness of himself, this pirate lying there, who'll was only ever likely to be helped by another pirate.

"Where do ye suggest we make port?" Barbossa stood, ready to give orders, "there's no more Tia Dalma to question in such unaccustomed matters." At Gibbs' unhelpful expression he walked up and down the small space a couple of times, turning on his heels, "I believed Calypso'll grant the favor. I've gathered the pieces of eight and I have released her from her human bonds, expecting her to avenge what's been done to her, but I have made one mistake! I didn't have her favorite pet around when I performed the incantation ceremony," he tapped his finger on his chin, "I'll always be left wondering what would've happened if she had Jack there on board with us. Would she have considered her lover?"

Gibbs looked lost. What was the significance of that now? He watched bewildered as Barbossa walked up to deck determined. His surefooted voice was loud when he gave his command, "I want Captain Jack Sparrow thrown overboard! Now!"

tbc


	7. Persona Non Grata

Chapter 7: Persona Non Grata

"He couldn't swim to an island in the state he is," Gibbs protested, panicking and looking around confused as no land was on horizon.

"Captain gave orders to be at ready to have him fished out as well if nothing happens," Ragetti inched close to Gibbs to reassure the anxious sailor the situation wasn't as bad as he thought, "but I have no idea what we're expecting to happen. Captain might be testing other captain if he's really unwell or jus faking it?"

Gibbs pressed his lips together in an effort to get his head round what Barbossa's plan might be, then winced, "he might be, but more likely...Jack and Tia were once inseparable...or so he says..." He shook his head, "I don't think it'll work!" He shouted, running towards the the four man dangling Jack over the water before letting go. Gibbs climbed up the railing, in between wanting to see if Jack submerged, and already ready to jump after him.

"Master Gibbs!" Barbossa warned, "ye looking forward to tasting the cat that ye'll have the chance to if ye dare to give some help to Jack."

Gibbs groaned quietly, but remained where he was so he knew for sure what was happening to Jack. A flogging he'd take for Jack, it has happened before. Since the still seemingly unconscious Jack hit the water with a solid thwack and his whole body was under wanter, the possibility of him being dead within a minute or so was pretty high.

The only person he'd willingly accept for his captain was still in nightmare land though. Lying in the sand, he could now feel his mouth being filled with salty water. The tide must have reached this part of the beach, he concluded while his remaining consciousness told him that he needed to make the effort to raise his head and out the water. Going with his survival instincts, he surfaced both in the dream and in reality and took a deep breath. Both his body and mind revived a little by the plentiful oxygen hitting his lungs and he looked around in horror. He's shown a sign he was awake, the other Jacks will resume pummeling him. But before he screamed he realized the others weren't anywhere to be seen.

Jack took several deep breaths to clear his mind and convince himself he was really floating in the open ocean next to the Pearl. Was there any point to having a shred of a cheerful thought to celebrate the fact he was somehow freed from the dream? Nightmare or not, there wasn't much of a difference. He felt cold and warm at the same time, his limbs were numb, his foot sore. Sea miles he didn't have to swim, he was a few arm length from the ropes at the side of the ship. Yet they seemed as hard to reach as if he would've had to go a hundred feet underwater, something he was able to do and been doing as a young man at Shipwreck Cove to explore the ships at the bottom. Today he struggled to get to the rope to hang on, but when he clutched it his fingers circled it so tight he didn't even let go after he blacked out again and the rest of his body submerged. Heading fe Davy Jones locker, are ye? This seems familiar somehow, was his last thought before woozying his way back to the dream. At least he didn't have to endure the feeling of drowning, was his first thought as he found himself in the company of many Jacks, again. Whether it was in the locker, or just a nightmarish hallucination it was hard to tell.

Tbc


	8. Protected

Chapter 8: Protected

Gibbs had no chance of being flogged however, and no chance at jumping after Jack either. Barbossa wasn't known for taking chances about such things. He turned his pistol as if he was using it as a club and motioned to one of the new deserters of the royal navy, of which there was plenty after their defeat, to copy his actions and the sailor hit Gibbs over the head with his own gun.

Barbossa then stepped over the human sack of potatoes banging down on deck, taking the very same spot by the railing Gibbs had been occupying a moment ago, the best place to observe Jack's status. He held his own breath till he could, then cursed. "Murtogg! After him!"

"I can't swim," the new pirate shrugged.

"Yer here cause yer no use to the navy, aren't ye?" Barbossa contemplated for a moment how silly it'd look if he saved Jack himself, then shoved Pintel and Ragetti into the turbulent water. What? Turbulent? The normally beautiful turquoise water was foamy, suggesting something was happening beneath the surface. Under the froth it was darker, yet a strange greenish light emanated from around the disturbance.

Barbossa smiled as large, curly, brown dreadlocks with green beads on top emerged from the sea. The sarcastically grinning face of Calypso followed. The goddess leaned down from her full height to near her face to the Pearl, making most of the crew disappear under and behind where ever they could.

The current captain of the Pearl took his hat off, trying to look as humble as he ever managed, which he wasn't all that good at, "can we be of any help to ye, my liege?"

Calypso cackled, making the ship rock dangerously and everybody who wasn't lying down before, ended up on their stomachs as well. When satisfied with the outcome of her actions she threw her hand up in the air, making the body of an unmoving Jack roll out of her fist where she'd kept him in so far. With a finger she gently rolled the unconscious captain along the deck and right in front of Barbossa, who had just managed to climb to his feet.

The goddess let out a roaring sound that was alike speaking, but due to the the volume, they couldn't quite understand what it was. She made a large splash then with her palm, one that landed a spray of water on Cotton and his parrot. Calypso pointed at the bird and at that point, the parrot started speaking on a different voice than what he was normally using.

"Don't dare risk him again. Take care of Jack Sparrow," transmitted her thoughts the parrot instead.

"Contrary to how it may look, I want him dead just as little as ye do," Barbossa claimed, "I was hoping ye'd come to save him and then tell us what was wrong with him and what to do."

"Locker-lag can only be cured by the one who sent him there," Calypso whispered this time so it was understandable, but it still seemed like shouting to them. She pursed her lips and nodded in the direction of the waking Gibbs, then her image became fuzzy, milk white, that suddenly lifted up in the form of a big cloud, being slowly blown towards the horizon.

"Pray for no rain," Ragetti mumbled, crawling onto deck from the sea.

"The one who sent him there?" Gibbs repeated, "but how? Davy Jones is dead."

"It's Mrs. Turner we'll we be meanin here," Barbossa said calmly, but changed gears as he barked at his subordinates, "all hands on deck! Eyes in the boat! Hoist Sail! The one who spots the Empress first gets double share of the next booty!" He shouted as he took the steps to his cabin to chart a possible course towards the South China Sea, hoping he'd catch Elizabeth long before they'd get there.

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	9. Slurred

Chapter 9: Slurred

The large captain's cabin could be used by two people no doubt. Two captains as the case may be, added with the persona of Gibbs sleeping on the floor next to his beloved friend, where Barbossa relocated them after it became clear Jack was in no shape to escape the brig and swim away anywhere.

Barbossa held himself back from kicking into the stocky pirate at his legs to stop him snoring, the morning sun was peeking out from behind the clouds anyway and he would've had to go on the deck to urge the crew on, somehow they always worked faster if he was around. The good man was due to sleep too, he's never seen Gibbs so anxious before. Jack was delirious, there was no doubt about it. Not nutty, loaded, illogical or even confused, Jack was totally and utterly lost in this dreamworld they sometimes got a glimpse into when he was talking in his sleep.

So Barbossa was all the more surprised when Jack raised his head, taking stock of his surroundings. "Are ye all right?" Barbossa asked bewildered, stepping to him on his first instinct, momentarily more concerned with the welfare of a partner in crime, than the sequent animosity he created himself with the first mutiny.

Jack either ignored his words, or didn't hear them, but he grabbed onto Barbossa's hand with a death grip. From his mumblings, the other captain could only make out three words this time, "back...away...Jackie..." Talking to himself he was again.

Fed up with the nonsense, Barbossa wanted to shake him off and get on with business, but the incoherent mutterings came to revolve around rum, and that was one thing he didn't think he could deny of a suffering man. He leaned over for the bottle on the table, then helped Jack sit up a little. He found he had to support the younger pirate all the way, both his voice and his body was scarily weak. "Easy there, Jack," he pulled the neck of the bottle from the thirsty lips, "I don't think ye could hold yer drink jest now."

Jack nodded hesitantly, "thanks...I needed that," he said really grateful, then leaned back, "I'm here on the Pearl and we're moving," he concluded.

"Aye," Barbossa agreed summarizingly. He had to talk to him. In the state he was, he'll maybe not make it to the Empress. "Whatever maybe wrong with ye, did ye never think this might be the end? There are some things ye can't run from." Barbossa nodded to him, leaning close to accentuate his words. He was by no means exaggerating, with that deathly thin face, Jack looked like death itself. "Or is it ye want to live forever with several of yer persona in yer head?"

Jack tried to turn his disoriented eyes towards the speaker, they were tiring already and he was afraid he'll have to close them and succumb to the volition of the other Jacks in dreamland once again. He frowned and put some will into keeping them open, sweating with the effort. His whole body ached, as if someone had taken a club and hit him with it everywhere, but then again he sort of remembered something like that happening on the island of torture, the way he called sleeping now. "The map ye want mate? It's in the locker. I tied it to a rock and let it sink to the bottom of the ocean. Ye can maybe round up the eunuch and ask him to send ye to the locker after it. Meself, I memorized it mate."

Barbossa rolled his eyes. Just the thing he expected Jack to be doing. "Yer determined so noone else benefits from yer knowledge, aye? Not yer dear faithful Gibbs, no yer dearest love of yer life? We can have an agreement. Ye tell me what ye know and when I get the water I take it to Mrs. Turner. How's that, Jack?"

"I...can't...talking's hard..."

"Damn ye!" Barbossa let him back roughly on the bed and stomped outside, "bullheaded fool!"

Jack pouted mischievously. He maybe didn't have much control over the more and more Jacks, but he could still make Hector dance!

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	10. Composition

Chapter 10: Dorsum

"Captain Turner! The Pearl's abaft the starboard beam!" The Empress' first mate after Tai Hung's disappearance, the young Hideyoshi reported. "They are flying three flags, a burgee, a white one and a yellow one."

Elizabeth jumped. First of all, the Pearl had no business this side of Africa and following them, unless Jack decided to turn around his normal Singaporean misfortunes by finally doing what she'd expected him to do in the first place, cash in the rewards for helping her and Will. But a yellow flag, that was more likely indicating the presence of illness of board, she wasn't aware of either Jack or Barbossa using such measures as trickery. "Heave-to. Prepare the longboat for me," she led the way to deck herself.

"Captain! I advise against it," her warrior first mate ran after her.

Were they trying to question her decisions again? Was the man with samurai ancestry not accepting her as captain, even if it was known she was the king? She looked at him doubtfully, but as far as he cold tell Hideyoshi's expression showed not much else than concern. Not to mention he was a Japanese on a Chinese ship, not exactly in the position for a rebellion. It had to be the way she ordered it anyway. She could not let anybody from a poxied ship come over, nor send someone else. She had to be the one who took the risk alone, not to mention her feelings towards those on board the Pearl she came to share so much with over the last few years. "And I advise you against crossing me again or trying my patience." She let him row her over however, but didn't let him on the Pearl, "disperse."

Climbing up the ropes agilely and apprehensively, she took Barbossa's offered hand to help her leap aboard. "My apologies Mrs. Turner, fe bargin in on ye like this, but we urgently need yer help."

"The fever?" Elizabeth tried to guess, given that was a very likely reason to hoist the yellow flag.

"Do ye know me as someone who would've risked yer life when ye can be of no use to us with the yellow fever?"

"Not if I'm no use, no."

"I was flying the flag simply to get yer attention. Jackie be needin ye. The haste be so he can survive till ye get here."

"Jack?" Elizabeth started, wide eyed, bottom lip starting to shiver a little. The man who showed her the legends about pirates were true, the man who made her one, and their king too, the man who'd survived the gallows, the cannibals, and defeated Davy Jones on more than one occasion, the one who was clever enough to take them all out from the locker, no, there was one thing Jack couldn't do, and that was dying. It was impossible.

"And he's near death by yer doing too," Barbossa continued, quietly enjoying the disarray he caused in her heart by the mention of that.

Elizabeth shook her head slowly, uncomprehending. All right, she was majorly responsible for the locker, that was one, she was also indirectly responsible for Jack not being able to stab Davy Jones' heart and make himself immortal like he wanted to, she's even extradited him to Beckett, but now? How? She looked up at Gibbs, who with a lopsided smile let her know there was some truth in what the once cursed pirate captain was telling.

"The locker doesn't easily give back what it took and there's never a guarantee," Barbossa explained further, "but sure be ye can believe Tia Dalma in what she claims. Yer the one who sent him to the locker, it's ye who has to bring him back."

"But...but...I did! We all did!"

Barbossa raised an index finger and held it to the side of his head, "his locker be in there."

Gibbs looked down discomfited, yet took the initiative to approach and touch Elizabeth's back to guide her in the right direction. "I believe he has never got rid of the ghosts in there, but ye know Jack, the master of deceit," the ex navy boatswain frowned.

Barbossa looked on without moving. He had no business with her mushy, emotional attempts figuring out how to reverse her actions. Although if she was unsuccessful, he had his own ideas on the subject.

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	11. Stateless

Chapter 11: Stateless

Now that Gibbs has given a rather convoluted and taradiddle like account of what has happened, Elizabeth was thankful she had plenty of experience to know how to find the truth in Gibbs' stories. Even so, it was sounding a bit phantasmagoric. Surely even Jack'd have some angst coming back from the locker, but why did he have to fight with all these other Jacks in his dreams? And what was she meant to do to stop it? Just like Gibbs said they were doing when trying to find out what was going on in Jack's head, she settled by his bedside to watch him.

With the old boatswain hardly ever having the opportunity to force Jack to drink or eat something and with him not having much rest from the nightmares, she could well understand Barbossa's fears of Jack not making it till they can come up with something. In just a few weeks she hasn't seen him he'd became a shadow of himself, pale, weak, his hair a complete mess, he was looking like he's been lost in the jungle a long time ago and couldn't find his way out. But it wasn't mainly his physical appearance that alarmed her however, it was the insane fear in his unfocused eyes he sometimes opened in a way that suggested he wasn't awake at all. It didn't take long to figure out how desperate the situation was.

What she additionally didn't understand was why Barbossa wanted to keep Jack alive. There wasn't the case of him being a pirate lords and the old trickster needing Jack's piece of eight so much so he was willing go to the locker after him. What else could Jack hold of similar importance? Or was it that being back to a mere mortal softened Barbossa as well?

Hearing an incoherent groan, her attention snapped back to the situation in hand, the man lying twitching and moaning in pain in front of her. She reached out on impulse to gingerly touch his cheek, then pulled back scared. Although she was told Jack was running a fever, the unnatural temperature of his body frightened her.

"Ye running a rig or was she really bilged on her own anchor? Ye need to swing the lead..." He muttered feverishly, obviously living the horrors of such a thing occurring to his own ship. Another one of those not nice dreams.

Gibbs looked at her nodding, as if telling her that was exactly what he was talking about, the sleeping faze nobody could take him out from.

Yet Elizabeth couldn't help herself, but try. She leaned over him to gently shake his chest. "Wake up, Jack. Wake up..." She whispered, begging urgently. She closed her eyes too and willed his body to react, to show her the slightest response, but she found him in much the same way when she opened her eyes. "Damn!" She caught herself saying, before she slapped him in anger, of course to no avail again. She winced at her own actions then, this wasn't what she was meant to be doing, whether or not Gibbs saw fit to let her deal with it in her own way. He didn't want to end up in an embarrassing situation either, so he thought he was better leaving at that moment.

Elizabeth began to struggle with her tears, her deep sadness never really lifted since she had to let Will go. These last few weeks were the hardest in her life, and not just because her every minute of her every day she had to stand up to what was expected from a pirate king.

"She's only a ship, mate."

Elizabeth looked up again surprised at the tone of Jack's voice and those exact words. She didn't have to think one moment to know where and in what circumstances she'd heard them before.

"We're not free yet, though." Jack continued after a few moments of sorrowful silence, touching the wall next to him, turning his head around as if he was taking in the view, yet his eyes were still closed.

Elizabeth edged closer in anticipation. Was he reliving that moment she left him chained to the mast? And if so, was this her cue? Could she change the way his mind was still in the locker?

"You came back. I always knew you were a good man," she repeated her own words and not wasting any time, she climbed on top of him to grasp his head and capture his lips. Hard. She was sure she needed all the force she could muster to break into his dream.

For a moment she had the impression that even if it seemed like an automatic reaction, Jack kissed back. But soon she had to realize it was just his continuing moans that moved his lips. She pulled back to check and she had to admit he didn't respond. His eyes didn't open, his body didn't move, his breathing didn't change, there was no reaction showing on his face. She shook him again, her arms slipping under his shirt, then taken by the moment she slammed her fist onto his bare chest. No reaction, still. He was just lying there locked in a world that didn't exist with a body that was wasting away.

She put her arm around his neck and pulled his head up towards her this time, then bent down to taste his lips slowly, more for herself, more because of her own disconsolateness than anything else. Her tears ran down his face and onto her arms now. Her doing, all this suffering, she never meant this to happen. It was a momentary bad judgment, and even then, she just thought he'd go down with his ship to the bottom of the sea, not to a nightmare land that'd never let him go. Feeling useless and monstrous, she lowered him back and the momentum of his weight, pulled her on top of him as well. So she settled her head in the valley of his shoulders. She still rubbed her hair onto his neck to stimulate him and wrapped her arms around him to show him she cared. She didn't know if it was of any use, but at least she had to reassure herself that this time, she wasn't going to abandon him.

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	12. Deviser

thank you so much for the lovely reviews!

howlongmustiwait-rum and waffles will do just fine, thank you, I love them!

Aenea Endymion-English is not my first language either, don't worry about that.

Chapter 12: Deviser

"I'd think that should be enough of this sentimentality," Barbossa stood in front of Elizabeth in the middle of the cabin with his legs apart, taking a stance. Behind him, several of his not long recruited crewmembers, clearly showing that if he had the choice he preferred the likes of his once first mate, the brute Bosun, Clubba or the inhumane Jacoby.

"There's more than one way to end up in the nightmare land of the locker," the tall pirate lord continued and motioned his men to take a hold of the woman as previously agreed.

"King! You have no right!" Elizabeth protested.

"When will ye learn the code actually contains mere guidelines, not rules, Mrs. Turner?"

Elizabeth found herself being hauled to deck, no matter how she struggled. Just a few men were not a match for the feisty woman, she grabbed a skinny black man's dreadlocks while kicking at a short pirate dressed in yellow, got rid of a large man's bushy brown beard for him so he didn't have to shave, but ultimately it was all in vain. Barbossa had ordered nigh the whole crew to tie her and take her towards the plank, right where a cannon'd been rolled out as well.

"Let me go!" Elizabeth struggled even more wildly, screaming when she realized she was getting tied onto the cannon, but couldn't get loose of the many hands holding her down.

"Can't do poppet," Pintel declared.

Mullroy and Murtogg looked at each other shaking their heads, disbelieving and shrugging. It was unlikely the captain would sink the governor's daughter, wasn't it?

Barbossa laughed, then pursed his lips, one hand on the hip, "ye not immortal are ye? Then underwater ye'll die and the weight'll pull ye down precisely where ye need to be. Davvy Jones' locker, where Jack's mind is still stuck. And if I can remember how it was to be a honest sailor and have a conscience, ye'll be thankful to me fe getting ye rid of yer guilt over killing Jack. Now ye can die to save 'im, doesn't that feel so liberating? Drowning'll be quick, don't worry, Mr. Turner'll not have enough time to come round and ask ye any questions of whether ye fear death."

Elizabeth didn't give him any consideration. She was too busy grunting in the effort to free herself, but it seemed the ropes weren't about to give in.

Some of the men cheered when the gun got rolled into the water, but Barbossa didn't even look. What needed to be done by him to bring Jack back to him, hopefully with the map, was done. Now it was only a matter of sitting it out.

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	13. Grounds

Chapter 13: Grounds

Elizabeth was sitting on the top of a sand dune, letting the little brown grains of the soil under her flow through in between her fingers. She was strangely mesmerized by the stream the sand particles were forming, it was so much like water, the water she was hell bent of not remembering. Drowning, the shock, the desperation, the first discomfort in her lungs, the pain in her temples and every part of her body. She honestly hoped it was the Kraken that killed Jack, quickly and effectively, and that he didn't have to go though the same experience. It would've taken him a lot longer to die, as diving was second nature to him.

She sighed and willed herself to pull her attention away from the eternal flow of the sand and take in her surroundings. Only there wasn't anything to be seen. It was all the same, as if she was in the desert. Sand dunes after sand dunes. Barbossa thought Jack should be here. But what if he wasn't? If his body wasn't, how could his mind be here? And how would his mind look like and how could she find it? How could she send him back, how could she get back? Was there any point to moving at all? Sitting with her legs under her, her gaze remained fixed on the slope leading up to the dune she was occupying. There was no wind, yet the sand seemed to be moving. Did it shape itself into a form, or did the form arrive from somewhere? Dirty hands with rings were leading the crawling man up to where she was.

Jack squinted, exerting his eyes to establish the identity of the vision in front of him in the blaring sun. He'd seen many things in this nightmarish lockerland that weren't what they were looking like at first. He had to admit though, he'd not seen Lizzie there yet. And where did all the Jacks go? If she wasn't really present, how could those replicas of himself disappear that kept plaguing him whenever he was alone or sleeping?

"Jack!" Elizabeth jumped, stomping down on the incline to meet him and causing him to end up with a fair amount of sand in his eyes. Unaware of the trouble she caused, she arrived sliding on her knees to where he was, in the middle of trying to stand up, which in turn resulted the both of them rolling down into the valley, entangled and taking turns as to who was on top.

"Came to rescue me, have ye?" Jack joked when they finally came to a halt with Elizabeth still on top of him. He hissed as he tried to disentangle his dreadlocks from her hair. Since it hurt, he came to the conclusion that the locker had somehow found another way to torture him, other than with the Jacks, no food and no rest. The other possibility was that her ship sunk for some reason and she really ended up in there.

"No!" Elizabeth pushed herself off Jack angrily, kneeing him in the side in the process, but she was too engulfed in her own emotions to notice, "I most certainly have not! And I most certainly have not wanted to die! I'm dead Jack, look at me! I wanted to sail the seas forever, not set foot on land myself just so it's sure death'd get me on sea and then Will would come and I'd have the chance to stay on the Dutchman instead of moving on. I was seeking getting into dangerous battles, challenged other pirate leaders over the last few weeks, I paved out a certain path for myself, leading right to the ferryman! And than that's it! Barbossa kills me just under a minute, I can see the green flash, but before the Flying Dutchman could get to me I arrive here!"

"Hector killed ye?" Jack managed to finally climb to his feet as well driven by obvious curiosity. For a moment he wasn't sure if he was relieved he wasn't there alone anymore or bursting with ire against the latest brutal actions of the older pirate lord he should've sent to the grave ages ago, only it wasn't his style to kill if he could help it. It would've meant equating himself with Barbossa, he was above that. Anger was slowly warming to boiling temperature inside him though. How dare he decide about the fate of a young life, one he cared about? He should be duefully retaliated upon for that. Jack clenched his fists frustrated, thinking of every good way he could repay Barbossa for everything he's done since the unfortunate event of ever meeting him? Should he shoot him, run his cutlass through his heart or most conveniently lure him into the navy's trap to be hanged? Raging, he felt every part of him resonate with the strong emotion. Unfortunately, or fortunately the intense fury woke him up and out of his nightmare.

Elizabeth gasped, reaching out into the void as the manifestation of Jack's mind, the only bit of him that was still stuck in the locker, blurred out of her vision.

On the Pearl, Jack scared Gibbs by opening his eyes and rolling out of bed barely controlled, but he managed to his feet with a big grunt. "Hector?" The anger in his voice was tight.

"By the helm."

"Come with me," Jack ordered his mesmerized friend, placing a hand on his groggy head. His eyes flashing, tiny sparkles through his weariness' haze, JAck ad one aim and he had to complete his task before his exhaustion took over again and he ended up conked out in his nighmareland again with Elizabeth.

A quarter an hour later, Barbossa found the mizzenmast shaking without no warning, and landing on the top of his head.

Jack wasn't bothered by the damage to the ship. He'd already ordered the repairs to be made before the mast had actually fell. "Maroon him on an island, any island," he dismissed Pintel and Ragetti, carrying the bleeding and comatose Barbossa. Blinking his eyes to vainly force himself to try to stay awake, he turned to Gibbs, "ye remember the way to World's End? Ye'll see the ferryman bothering us if we don't get Lizzie out of there soon." He could hear himself speaking, but it sounded so far away.

Gibbs winced, "I was trying to forget the way...but even so, without the navigational charts not even Barbossa could've managed. How was he supposed to know those waters anyway?"

Jack swayed close, he knew his legs must've been moving, but he felt as if he was floating, his head driving the direction he was drifting to. He had to talk to Gibbs in a way nobody else could've heard it. He put a hand on the man's shoulder for support, it was easier to make out Gibb's words that way as well, with the darkness closing around Jack and threatening to take him. "I don't have the charts, but I had the cannibals tattoo a miniature version of it on my thighs. The Fountain of Youth on the left and World's End on the right. Or was it the other way round?" He tried to remember, vaguely aware of the pain in his head intensifying with the effort. He was so tired, but maybe there was no more need to stay awake right now, he couldn't avoid sleep anyway. And unless Gibbs got hopelessly drunk, he could trust him with the task of acting captain and if Barbossa was left behind somewhere nobody else would have a reason to argue either. He patted the older man in the back, his eyes too heavy and closing already on his way back to the cabin. He could find his way around on the Pearl anyway, no matter what. He still heard Gibbs barking orders, but as if his voice was coming from another world. Jack reached the cabin, but not the bed when darkness set in.

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	14. Lawmaking

Chapter 14: Lawmaking

Jack grunted on arrival, shielding his eyes from the sun. Yet it wasn't all bad. Yes, his mind was reverting back to a state where he felt in the locker again, but there were no Jacks and no other illusions either taking him to Runrunner's Island, the bilge of his father's ex ship or Beckett's cellar. It was just the locker itself he had to put up with, and a seemingly distraught Lizzie. Having her back to him, he couldn't quite make out what she was doing sitting with slumped shoulders, dropped head and a generally defeated body language. He hesitated to approach her, all right, the locker wasn't a pleasant place to end up being at, but he'd never seen Lizzie so distraught before, not even after the eunuch's transformation. Worried creases formed under his eyes, with the lass retreating to herself like that, could it be that she was starting to experience hallucinations of her own as well? That she was crying, it was hard to imagine.

Elizabeth had to give up holding back when she was starting to choke on her tears and found that the little wetness was at least helping her hot cheeks cool a little under a sun that didn't seem to cease blaring. The shock of what had happened had hit her full force now. She was alone in a situation that nobody should ever be faced with, without any certainty to coming back to life, without a sure chance to ever see the ones she loved. She knew the way out the locker, but what was it good for without a ship in the middle of the desert? So she cried the tears of anger over her being betrayed, having ever met pirates, having ever felt excited about pirates even, she cried cause there was nothing else she could think of the doing at the moment, her confusion about her past life choices crippled her and welled her heart up with pain. She knew that if she'd be disappointed once more, her heart'd froze up so she wasn't feeling anymore.

Jack slowly approached from the side and it was her tears dropping down in the sand in front of her, the only wet patch on the whole horizon, that he saw first as validation of his fears, that Lizzie was indeed just as lost as he was. It broke his heart, and not just that. Knowing that Barbossa killed her because of him, being sent to the locker for whatever reason was one debt he did not ever want her having to repay to him. But there was his love, the person he willingly sacrificed his chance to immortality for, kneeling in front of him, weeping and even so, the most beautiful wench he'd ever seen.

"Lizbeth..." He said softly, not to scare her, like a lover's caress.

Elizabeth whirled around, not sure if his voice was just a fragment of her imagination. Tears glistering in her eyes she stood face to face with him as he walked towards her. He put a palm on her arm and pulled her towards him, then he encircled her body with his own. "Lizzie..." He didn't know what to say, what one lost soul could say to another, but the gesture was a way of explaining to her how he felt and what they could do to keep each other's spirits up.

Her tears ended when she wrapped her arm around him in turn. She had no idea before how she longed for that heartening embrace. How much energy this man filled her with, there were days during her engagement she would've given up everything, even Will if she could be like Captain Jack Sparrow. She grabbed his sleeves alarmed when she felt him wanting to move. "Jack..." She begged.

"There's some rum to soothe ye," Jack offered her his flask and lacking anything better that was offered, Elizabeth took such a big slug that Jack feared there wasn't anymore of his drink left for him.

Heartened by the surge of the alcohol in her veins, Elizabeth was once more capable of coherent thought, "where did you go?"

"Taking care of that murderous bastard Barbossa. He should be off the Pearl by now."

"No bullets in his heart?"

"Couldn't kill him on the sea luv, if there was even the slightest chance he would've ended up here in the locker with us."

Elizabeth nodded, hating herself for the need she felt. Was she such a disloyal person? What about Will? Yet at this moment in time, she wanted nothing more than some certainty and reassurance in her life, that embrace continued. She looked into the distance, tears stinging again.

"I need you to do what you've done before," Jack stated, too busy looking at the bottom of the empty flask to explain some more.

"What?" Elizabeth replied quickly, startled as Jack echoed the same word she was thinking about in relation to him: need.

"Provide some shock, a strong emotion, something that kicks me out of this dream, like before. I'm needed on the Pearl, just fe a little while, luv. I need to make sure Barbossa's really off the boat and that we're heading in the right direction to get here."

Elizabeth looked up wearily. Her shocking Jack Sparrow? Thwarting him? The kiss. It has worked before.

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	15. Awareness

Chapter 15: Cognisance

With a sense of deja vu, Elizabeth stepped to him this time. Anticipating the move, Jack nodded a bit bewildered, understanding how the kiss might help and watched motionless as she raised her chin and closed in.

Suddenly loosing courage given she was lacking complete justification for what she was doing, unlike by the Kraken attack, she changed her mind at the last moment and simply traced his mouth with her fingers instead.

Jack said nothing regarding the change of direction, nor showed much reaction. However, he closed his eyes. If that was as much as he was going to get, he wanted to be able to concentrate better on the sensation stimulating his lips with the touch, her slightly wet fingers after she cleared away her tears and the feel of the tiny valleys forming her fingerprints he sensed with his tongue when he slowly let it out to play and licked the tip of her fingers, "please..." He voiced his plea and in continued slow motion removed her hand from the way and decided to kiss her himself. Their lips moving softly as if caressing each other with velvet, their shaking breath was proof they were both ready for more. Once their mouths brushed to each other, there was no turning back.

Elizabeth gave into the urge and didn't oppose when he started to suck her top lip, softly still, nor when he began to kiss her more firmly. His hands came round her, claiming her, holding her tight against himself, acutely aware of the curvatures of her body.

When did she start crying again and why, she didn't know. But with what she's been through lately and with her emotions so intense and all over the place for the last while, she wasn't surprised.

Jack on the other hand, drew back startled by the new flow of tears. He watched her for a moment confounded, but then he concluded that her silent tears had as little to do with their touching as the heat inside him had to do with the soaring temperatures in the desert. Not minding the wetness around her mouth he kissed her again, then moved to kiss away every teardrop from her cheeks, hair and eyelids till there was no more left and covered her jawline and neck as well just for good measure. He arrived to the opening of her shirt and his golden teeth eased a couple of buttons out of their holes.

Needing to feel his lips on hers though, Elizabeth grabbed his head and pulled him back up. For a few moments, that was enough, but suddenly soon she craved for more. It would've been sheer torture to have to stop now. Hissing just imagining such anguish, she pressed her body as close to his as it was possible. No rules in the locker, no hiding, where there? Not even guidelines.

Jack fidgeted, heavy and incredibly aroused, then eventually lost patience. He bit his own lip, hard. As pleasant as their current state was, with her so close to him, he couldn't get rid of the clothing items, the only things separating them. She only had two hands, how come they were everywhere? Then he found his way by pushing the fabric off her shoulders and getting rid of her shirt as if it would've been a dress. His hands slid into his trousers while he shrugged his own garments off. Lastly he tripped in his own trousers when they were halfway down, which landed them both on the ground, skin to skin and hands to flesh. It was part of a masterplan, nobody could've been able to tell for sure if he was just clumsy or he wanted it so.

She ran her hands along his chest and then suddenly she was no longer touching him at all, she even forced his head away from her breasts, "hate me Jack! Why don't you hate me?" Elizabeth made a last attempt to hold back from the inevitable.

"No." Jack just smiled. "It's just some loving to death. I'm sure ye can make it up to me, whatever it is." Pirate smile it was. Cocky, mysterious, yet promising. And right now, it was promising heaven.

Tbc


	16. Mellowed

Chapter 16: Mellowed

For the first time in weeks, Jack was peacefully, long and deeply asleep in the shadow of a dune, his breathing slow and rhythmical. There was a smile on his lips, both on the Pearl and inside his own dream that held his soul in the locker. Wrapped in each other's arms with Lizzie he was having a whole different kind of dream than any other time lately, one that was sweet, sticky and very pleasurable. His moan was one of pleasure as well and he stretched a little, waking up rested to be able to gaze on the face of her lover. Yes, they were still in the locker, Barbossa needed dealt with once and for all and he couldn't trust pirate Lizzie's relationship choices for more than a few minutes, but right now, none of that was in front of his mind. None of that could be accomplished with while he was in the locker though, so the only thing that mattered was that she was in his arms, happy. Freed by the lack of conventions in a world beyond their own, their stay in the locker together turned out to be quite the opposite of what the place was supposed to represent, it was heaven instead of torment.

Jack wished they could've stayed like this forever. With him simply holding her, just feeling the harmony and comfort he took in her, with not even sexual desire mixed in. At this moment he had no wishes to join the real world, the environment was foreign, yet he'd never felt so at home ever before, it was as if it was like his favorite place to be.

The bliss of the here and now wasn't to be though. He felt Lizzie moving against him and he suddenly panicked. He didn't really want to be there when Elizabeth came to regret what passed between them, especially that it didn't work sending him back to the Pearl. It would've hurt too much to bear. He put a finger over her mouth. "Don't say it."

Elizabeth kissed his hand instead, and sat up, "don't say what? That I love you?"

Jack shook his head. He had absolutely no desire to ask about Will. That would've spoiled the moment. Instead, his body relaxed. He held her securely against his bare chest and he raised his head to kiss her. Their mouths touched slowly, radiating the peace and calm that seeped into their hearts.

It felt so natural. That she was his, that he was the attentive lover, that they both ended up there to fulfill their destiny. A perfect set up so that she was his alone. That she appreciated him, that they needed each other, that he could have the one woman he ever really wanted. Suddenly he found that he was intensely, radiantly and rapturously happy. Perfectly happy. It was an immensely strong emotion, overflowing all his senses.

Elizabeth pulled their hair of the way of the kiss that lingered and deepened, stretched into another kiss, then another. But she wasn't lost in the moment, or the sensation, her actions were conscious in trying to reveal her feelings for him with the kiss. It was her only way of letting him know how she appreciated him, was thankful to him, not just for saving her and Will, but for taking her out of her boring existence that was not worth living. It was her soul she conveyed with that kiss. It was the only thing she could give him here in the land of death, yet it was the only thing that mattered. With her eyes closed, she was oblivious to anything else than their momentary unity and his lips brushing her chin. His tongue then slid across her lips as she parted them at the exact right moment, their rhythm in concurrence, then...nothing.

There was absolute silence around her, accompanied by a vague sensation of something odd being afoot and inordinate discomfort, especially given previous circumstances of their oneness. She expected for Jack to feel the change of air around them as well, seize the kiss, let her go. And he seemed to.

She reached out to hold onto him, face the occurrence together, but she found nobody to hang on to. Falling on her hands and knees, she opened her eyes to only see a gray smog seeping out from under her, from next to herself, then the shape that was once Jack vanished in a flicker of motion. The definition of nothingness followed, everything was silent, except the violent beating of her heart as she realized what happened. She touched her mouth. She accomplished what she was sent here for, to free Jack's soul from torment and send him fully back to the real world. Her eyes closed slowly as she laid her head down in the sand, feeling just as void as the space around her.

Jack woke up rested on the Pearl, from the most pleasant dream ever. He was alone in his cabin and it was empty in a way he hadn't noticed it before. Not even the fact that there were no more Jacks about was consoling. He looked under the bed, the table, and at the bottom of a bottle of rum. No alteregos. No easy way back to Lizzie just by falling asleep. He couldn't wallow in his heartache though, there was an agenda to be completed if he wanted her out the locker. He stopped by the door for a moment and brushed two fingers over his mustache, the hairs were still tingling with the sensation of her cheeks against it. The memory of their earlier lovemaking flooded his mind, but he rubbed the side of his head to get rid of it. He didn't mean to remember, he didn't want to remember. It'd only hurt. For better or worse, this was his life, the way he'd always wanted it, sailing the seas with the Pearl unhindered by anyone or anything, let alone the ridiculous emotion of love for a wench. Even more so, he couldn't set himself up for failure. Cause he was certain Elizabeth Swann Turner was only doing what was to be done as usual. It was the only way for her to survive, to shock his soul into returning by telling him that she loved him and acting accordingly too, so that he could then get her out the locker as well on turn. And so he will. On his way to the helm he tried to put his indifferent and happy go lucky attitude on. He could maybe deceive the crew. But not himself.

Tbc


	17. Allot

Chapter 17: Allot

It was always about the waters. In water it was starting when Jack first met Lizzie, when he jumped after an unknown lady to save her, despite the navy all around. And it will end in water too. He waited for the clack sound coming as if from the inside of his ears while forcing air out his lungs to avoid damaging his hearing before diving deeper and squeezing himself past coral formations to the lower deck of the shipwreck Georgiana, one of the many vessels that has fallen victim to Devil's Throat, a narrow passage, the only sea tunnel leading into the volcanic crater housing Shipwreck Cove. He ducked behind and old gun mount of the submerged frigate for a moment so that he doesn't collide with some yellow bellied sea snakes. Waiting for the venomous animals to pass he noticed myriads of edible oysters in their beds, but he wasn't there for them. It was going to be a tight situation anyway, getting back to the surface with that one breath the contents of the dead man's chest will provide him, that is, if it's going to be there in the captain's cabin at all, at the pirate king's secret place no other than the keeper of the code should be aware of, at almost 300 feet underwater, where only the most apt divers could manage. The key he had already, he'd stole it off his lover at the time she was sleeping in his arms, when he made up his plan of how to get her out the locker. Once on board the Pearl, he gave his orders to turn around, they were not going towards world's end, all to the relief of the crew and himself a bit. He didn't want to see the Pearl getting crushed to pieces of driftwood by the waterfall.

Yet he didn't care all that much of the outcome of him running out of air. He was betting on one of four things to happen. Given he was told of Elizabeth returning to Shipwreck City to talk to his father after her one day with Will, it was very likely an impressed Teague would've conformed to his duties and let Lizzie know of everything a pirate king was meant to, including what the shipwrecked Georgiana was used for. Then his father would've dived to hide the king's most valued treasure down there himself. If the chest was however not there, he could maybe still make it back up to the surface alive, even having spent too much time descending as he had to find his way around in a place he hasn't been to for twenty years, ever since he's told his father he had no intentions of following his footsteps and becoming the keeper. Perhaps his survival instincts will kick in and he will try to make it, but what good would that do? Staying in control of his body didn't land him where he wanted to be, nor the locker, nor meeting Will, nor making Calypso come will not follow. He almost gasped, making his mouth fill with water when his fingers probed around the wall for lack of enough light. He sensed the ornate sides of the dead man's chest, not knowing whether he should be pleased or unhappy. The easy way to save her was given and maybe he didn't have to rush to locker himself now. Jack traced the route to the keyhole. He quickly groped for the heart inside, squeezed it and hoped he remembered the incantation the one holding the heart could use to summon the owner of the beating organ.

Everything became visible around him and the supposed to be pink and blue corals all shimmered in a green light that a few moments later completely blinded him. That was how he didn't notice the huge tentacle ending in a claw coming for him, encircling him and taking him aboard the Flying Dutchman, ship in the middle of surfacing.

By the time Jack got to his senses he was dripping water on the deck of the ever so wet Dutchman, while Will Turner was busy trying to accommodate the large tentacle that served as his hand when he finally managed to pull it right back into its place where anybody could mistake it, rightly, for a human body part.

"That was quick," Jack commented, although it wasn't sure he meant Will's appearance, having been pulled out of deep water without any ill effects, or Will adapting to replace the one he used to call fishface.

Not that the ferryman was interested in any of it. Will was staring at the object Jack was still holding in his hand, the one that always belonged to Elizabeth and noone else. "How did you get that?"

"Oh, this?" Jack weighed up the dangers that could pose a threat for him on board of the reformed vessel, and from the new, but powerful captain. He shook his head at the end of the thought process, the eunuch could be surprising, but had a long way to go to outsmart him, even with his parvenu supernatural powers. "How did I get it? Who am I ye think? Am I not Captain Jack Sparrow?" He flippantly gave the heart a little toss in the air, making it flying in a sharp and small arch to its proper owner. "I thought that'd get yer attention."

"What do you want, Jack?" Will asked coldly. They've been playing games with each other ever since they met, but he still didn't like it when Elizabeth was involved in it at all.

Jack shrugged, "I'm in love with yer lass, mate," he admitted and made a pause to be able to watch his conversation partner's reaction in case that needed an immediate counter reaction from him, in the form of ducking.

Will put a hand on a hip and looked at Jack provokingly with his eyes sparkling. He glanced at his own beating heart in his other hand and wished he could trade places with Jack. However, as with Jack you had to bargain, he had to let him come forward with whatever he wanted to offer.

"But she doesn't love me, you see," Jack continued, "would be a fool's errand pursuing that path. Dear William!" He hesitated between amicably locking arms with him or sneaking as far as it was possible while still talking to him. The captain of the Flying Dutchman could hear him from the Pearl if he wanted to, couldn't he not? Ultimately he decided for neither moves, but got hold of a rope as if his hands were simply playing with it, in case he had to flee. "You have no idea how really uneasy I feel to have to inform ye of this, but through an infelicitous and wholly capricious series of circumstances that had aught whatsoever to do with me, yer sad beloved has ended up in the locker."

"The locker?" Will demanded angrily, too emotional to be able to spout out his accusations, but stepped closer to Jack to look him in the eyes. It was maybe easier to get to the truth that way.

"My hands are clean, mate! Would I come to ye fe help if they weren't? What's the trouble anyway. The ferryman can take anybody out the locker at will, what's more ye can keep her on board. She's dead ye know. Ye can keep her that way, or restore her to the world of living. It's up to ye, or her, mate, yer the Dutchman's captain!"

Will looked at his father from the corner of his eyes. Bootstrap was nodding benevolently, then foreseeing his son's next move, he gave the orders himself, "down, men!" It was the fastest shortcut to the locker.

Jack remained floating on top of the water, not so far from the Pearl where he flung himself using the rope he so smartly taken hold of earlier. Hopefully, that'd be the last time he'd seen either Lizzie or William Turner. They'd surely want to stay together on the Dutchman now that they can, and he will be off to find the Fountain Of Youth and as an immortal he'll never have to face the ferryman. Maybe if he won't see her, it will not be as hard to forget her. Off to Tortuga first though, he had to do something about all this lust he had for her that'll never be clenched.

Tbc


	18. Bounds

Chapter 18: Bounds

One year later

Jack pushed his thin body through the mouth of the hole where the long, windy and sometimes underwater passages of the cave took him. Finally he was out on the fresh air, not far off from the end of his journey to the Fountain Of Youth. He scratched his head to get rid of all the mud stuck to it while half heartedly scanning the scene for any signs that somebody else could've been there lately. Of course, he hasn't seen a human for days, but pirates were a suspicious race. The trees were not exactly helping his visibility, so he cornered a few to practically stumble over a formation of rocks looking like a natural spring. It was also welled up all round to have the appearance of a small fountain instead, but the man made construction didn't stand up to the hardships of time and looked rather shaky. Ironic that, if this was indeed the water that made everyone young. To investigate, he jumped like crazy and over the wall quickly, then stalled at the sight in front of him from up close. Jack sat down slowly to examine his findings, but the fountain seemed so dried up that even the ivy that covered the surrounding rocks was dry and dead.

Which means it was all for nothing. The squabble with Barbossa, dealing with the cannibals again, hiding his secret tattoo from the whores in Tortuga, hoping that one day Lizzie will want to leave the Dutchman and his immortality will enable him to wait for her. He scrubbed a hand across the rocks inside the fountain walls to see if any of them had any traces of wetness on them. If this will give him no results, he might have to dig up the whole site. He undid the little ax from his belt he's been using to claw his way up cave slopes, hesitating about moving the rocks. For twenty years, he's been trying find a way to become immortal. Yet now that he seemed to be failing, he didn't feel bad. Kind of a relief it was, living forever with himself if it wasn't with Lizzie as well didn't seem such a rosy prospect.

"Don't you think axing it is a bit drastic?" Elizabeth climbed on top of the wall and sat on it casually. "Besides, the spring's giving a drop once in a while, something like a few times a day, you just have to be there to catch it and collect it. I could already drink some," she showed him a little bottle and shook it so he could hear the water shuggling in it. "What? Did I render the great Captain Jack Sparrow speechless?"

"How luv?" Jack squinted and looked around to make sure she was still there when he turned his head back. He then cornered her and sneakily slid along the wall to sit beside her, "yer supposed to be with yer dear beloved."

"Am I not?" She answered seductively.

"I mean how did ye get here!"

"Pirate. When I was using you as a pillow and you were sleeping I figured if Jack Sparrow'll tattoo something at his inner thighs it's going to be of some importance. Only I was getting rather bored here. I expected you months ago!"

"Life still no cheery on the Dutchman, is it?" He now tried to find out now why she was there.

"Not after Will found out I was expecting your child," she leaned over to the other side and produced a basket with a moving pink bundle in it, "your daughter. I named her Perla."

Jack raised his eyebrows and winced. There's not much you could say to such surprise. He gulped and drew a bit back. There were many things he wanted from Lizzie, a child he never thought about before.

Elizabeth however, didn't wait much, she pulled the baby from under her covers and dumped her in Jack's arms. "I'm not asking you to be around, be there for her, care for her or even provide any protection. I'd simply like her to know who Jack Sparrow is, up close."

Jack pulled back again, this time scandalized, "ye told me I was a good man and ye proved it to me too. Do ye really think I won't care about her? Or the mother of me child as a matter of fact? And is it which part of me saving ye, saving ye again, coming back fe ye, dieing fe ye, forgiving ye, saving yer Will fe ye, making love to ye, getting ye out the locker and letting ye to be with yer betrothed may suggest such a thing?"

Elizabeth shook her head, confused, "you...you left. And you didn't come back."

Jack nodded, waiting till she came to her own conclusions. Doing things that signified he loved her was one thing, admitting it to her out loud was another.

"Well, I'm glad we met here," she concluded finally. Expecting too much from a pirate she'd not, she knew how they were, she was one herself. It was the here and now that mattered and she'd stay with him as long as he wanted it. She didn't have to bother figuring out the signs, if Jack had enough, he'd disappear by himself anyway. She nestled her face on his shoulder, both of them marveling at the sleeping bundle in Jack's arms.

"Ooh, niiice." Barbossa's voice was coming from the other side of the wall as he was facing them just a few feet away, his pistol directed at Jack's chest, a little too close to where Perla was for Jack's liking. "In my years as a pirate I have to say I came to learn marooning people has a tendency not to work, how come ye didn't come to the same conclusion yet, Jack? There's always turtles about! What's more, being caring does have its reward!" The old pirate captain said sarcastically, "next time ye should check whether the one who washed yer sweat off ye when ye bit yer own lips bloody in yer nightmares had seen under yer trousers or not! Here with that bottle!" He waved the weapon in the direction of the water collected earlier by Elizabeth.

"I thought ye knew yer place, Mrs. Turner," Barbossa emphasized the last word, but the comment was more about her standing in front of Jack and the baby, rather than about her relationships.

Elizabeth raised her chin and scrutinized Barbossa self consciously. It was tables turned. This time it was her who was unable to die from mere gunshots, although that one she didn't try out yet since drinking from the fountain. The water produced an effect, she knew that, the cuts she inflicted on herself to test it healed immediately, but she wasn't looking forward to the pain a bullet would cause. Hopefully though, it wouldn't have to come to that, but she'd protect Perla and Jack with her flesh. Acting as cover, she handed the bottle to Jack so that he could drink from it behind her back and out of sight.

Jack frowned. How could the water of life taste so bland. But of course, compared to rum everything did. He wasn't so good at placing the baby back in her basket in safety at the other side of the wall without making her cry, but ultimately he stepped to the side holding his own pistol to the bottle with very little youth water left in it. "How many weeks ye intending to sit here waiting fe a drop, mate? There's never a guarantee there's going to be any more, ye know," he held the items in his hand like that till they could both backtrack and Lizzie was in a position to pick the basket up and run. Then he sat the bottle nicely on the top of the wall and took hold of her hand for while they were fleeing.

When they were out of the reach of the gun, Elizabeth asked, "why did you do that? Why did you leave him the water of life?"

"What's a long, eternal life without yer favorite enemy and a little excitement about?" He grabbed her bottom to demonstrate excitement, "I think he must've calmed down by now and is enjoying the benefits of what he wanted. So how about going back and asking him to marry us?"

The End.


End file.
